


The Faerie King

by BeaArthurPendragon, Cap_D



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Fanart, Flying Sex, Hair Brushing, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, februfairy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaArthurPendragon/pseuds/BeaArthurPendragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_D/pseuds/Cap_D
Summary: “When did your feelings change?”“They never changed. I have been doomed since the moment I set eyes on you.”***When the Faerie Queen’s sudden death raises the Crown Prince to the throne about a century ahead of schedule, he has one last chance to confront his feelings for his bodyguard once and for all.Featuring gorgeous art by CapDeady.(Written for Februfairy.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 44
Kudos: 174





	The Faerie King

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the incredible portraits of FairyKing!Steve and Fairy!Bucky by [CapDeady](https://twitter.com/CapDeady) you'll see below. This fic could have been 100,000 words long if I’d had the time, but at least you’ll get the first and last chapters of what it could have been. I hope they stand well enough as a story on their own. (It doesn't matter. The art alone is worth the click.)
> 
> I've renamed our boys in this fic, but I think you'll be able to figure out who's who. 
> 
> Thank you to my lovely betas, Aeremaee and Ladra, and my Team Chaos Faerie experts. <3

He was supposed to have 100 more years.

150, if he was lucky, if the Queen had inherited her mother’s longevity in addition to her razor-sharp mind. But instead a strange, sudden breath-stealing sickness had reached her, and the healers had not been able to save her.

She had been gone less than a week—he had accompanied her body to Sunset Hill, to bury her and dance with her ladies and dearest friends to send her back to the Earth, and he was now nearly home—and already he missed her so acutely his chest ached. And tomorrow he would be crowned king, half a lifetime ahead of schedule—not the youngest king in their kind’s history, but it had been seven generations or more since Faerie was ruled by anyone younger than 75.

He was 40.

Not a child anymore, not even an adolescent, but so, so young. Unmarried, too, and with only 15 years of military service to speak of while a war against the Hydrae raged less than a hundred miles to the east. He’d acquitted himself well in the fighting that he’d seen—he was the captain of the Fae Forces’ elite Howling Commandos, who carried out the bravest and most dangerous missions for the crown—but it hardly matched the 90 years of service his mother had acquired before she assumed her throne.

He wasn’t ready, and everyone knew it.

“You’re brooding again.”

His bodyguard’s voice came from behind him, low to the ground, near the base of the tree. Winter, his bodyguard, the man who knew him better than he knew himself, who had lived and fought by his side for these past 15 years.

His bodyguard, and so much more. Winter was his most trusted advisor and his closest friend, the one he stayed up late talking to after a bad dream left one of them sleepless and anxious, the one he whiled away the dull waiting hours with trading stories of childhood escapades and hopes for the future, the one he fretted over most after a battle, checking for evidence of injuries and poisons and evil spells. The one he exchanged increasingly filthy jokes with over a skin of wine near the fire and the one who teased him mercilessly about his off-key singing. The one who’d embraced him first when the news arrived of his mother’s death.

The only one who understood why he hadn’t wanted a full royal escort back to the palace after his mother’s funeral, why he wanted to make the journey alone.

They were alone atop Cobble Hill, overlooking the Great Apple Forest, which both of them called home. Its leaves were brilliant with autumn color and at its center stood the towering Grandmother Oak that had housed the royal family for a thousand years. 

There was almost no sign of the war here, aside from the glitter of the wards shielding the forest, and the quiet cicada hum and owlsong of ordinary nighttime rang oddly in his ears. He had forgotten what peace felt like.

It felt—disloyal somehow, knowing his men were probably under fire even now.

“I am not _brooding_ ,” Star said.

Winter snorted. “If you say so, Highness.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It’s your title. And tomorrow I shall have to call you Majesty.”

“We know each other too well for titles.” 

He could hear Winter draw breath to retort, but then there was silence. Instead he said, “All right, then. Stop staring at your fate and come have a drink.”

Star heard Winter take a drink from the sloshing wineskin they’d opened when they stopped to rest for the night, and imagined licking the drops from his lips. But he didn’t turn around. He didn’t think he could bear to, knowing how little time he had left with him. 

Tomorrow, Star would become King, and Winter would return to their camp on the Old Stone Wall to rejoin the elite force of commandos Star had led for more than a dozen years.

With so much unsaid.

Star sighed and governed his expression and turned around. Winter was lounging against a large root furred with moss, his wings folded and tucked to cushion his spine. One knee was raised and his arm was resting on it. The wineskin was cradled in the crook of his left elbow. His long dark hair fell loose about his face and the malachite magic that gave him his strength glowed faintly blue-green beneath his skin in the moonlight.

He’d removed the golden scale-armor pauldron that he wore to protect his damaged left shoulder, now laced with deep, purple scars from the fangs of the Hydra striker who had dragged him into the water and nearly killed him a dozen years ago.

Nearly.

Star had been able to save him, but only because Winter had already managed to save him from that same Hydra first, slashing the tentacle that gripped him fast and pushing him out of the way, only for the Hydra to swoop down with one of his heads to register his displeasure at losing his prize.

There had been dozens of close calls—more than either of them could count—but that had been the closest of them all. But they had saved each other as they always did. If Star had his way, they’d be saving each other for the next hundred years, too.

Winter patted the soft earth beside him and Star tucked his wings and settled in at his side.

“You knew this day would come,” he said softly.

“Not so soon,” Star said. “It doesn’t feel right, retreating to safety while I leave you and the men on the front, and yet I envy you utterly.”

“We shall all miss you, too.”

“It’s not fair.”

“The lives of princes rarely are.”

Star scoffed. “I do not expect anyone to feel sorry for me.” He nodded toward the forest spread before him. “I’m sure many of my subjects would gladly exchange their troubles for mine.”

“Yes, yes, we all know how noble and good you are,” Winter chided gently. “You are still allowed to feel a little sorry for yourself.”

Star shook his head and laughed. “Around you, maybe,” he said, then nodded toward the forest. “But once I get there—”

“You will find other confidants,” Winter said. “You need to. Don’t let yourself get too lonely up there. You need people you can trust.”

Star laughed softly. “Kings are always lonely.”

“Princes, too, in my experience.”

Star rolled his head toward Winter and gave him a rueful grin. “Practice makes perfect.”

“We are friends,” Winter said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he said, but the word felt false and hollow. He laughed bitterly. “Though you are paid to be close to me, so I don’t know what that says about me.”

“I would be your friend whether or not I was charged with protecting you.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“And truthful,” Winter said, nudging his foot lightly. “Remember what I told you the day I was assigned to you—this doesn’t work if we cannot trust each other completely. I have never lied to you.”

“Nor I to you,” Star said, though he knew as soon as he spoke that Winter did not believe him.

Winter was quiet for a long minute. “I think you have,” he said finally. His voice was gentle, free of disappointment or anger. Not an accusation then, but an invitation.

“I have not,” Star protested, though there was no heat in it. “Not about anything that mattered, anyway.”

“People generally don’t lie about things that don’t matter.”

“Princes always have secrets,” Star said.

Winter hummed skeptically. “Very well,” he said. “Your Highness.”

The rebuke stung. Star sighed and stood and returned to the overlook, where he sat on a soft patch of grass.

It had been high summer when Star first reported to the Fae Forces headquarters at the edge of the Great Apple Forest to begin his military service—for all Fae royals were required to serve in the military so that they would learn the needs of their soldiers and lead them more wisely. He would spend three years in training and then he would be given his first command, and the prospect of it had terrified and thrilled him in equal measure, for he was determined to prove himself worthy and hoped that he would never let his men down. 

He had rankled at the idea of a bodyguard, even though he knew he was the Queen’s only heir and the only thing standing in the way of a civil war for succession. He had guarded his independence fiercely at school, slipping away from his protection detail as often as he could to walk the markets and eat in the taverns alone, trying to better understand the lives of the people he was meant to rule.

But then the sergeant assigned to him had lifted his eyes after bowing to Star for the first time, and there had been the tiniest upturn at the corners of his mouth, the briefest flash of silver in his gray-blue eyes, and Star was done for.

He had almost rejected the man on the spot. Should have, really—the first rule of a protection detail, after keeping the protectee alive, was not to fall in love. Feelings always complicated things too much, made hard decisions infinitely harder, confused the mission. Feelings would endanger them both.

But he hadn’t. Couldn’t. He wasn’t sure why—he just felt so drawn to Winter that he knew he would rather smother his feelings and occasionally satisfy his needs lovelessly with other men, just for the privilege of staying near him.

He’d almost said something after he’d carried Winter back to shore after the Hydra’s attack and saw how badly he’d been injured. He’d flown Winter to the infirmary tent himself, frantic with worry that the Hydra’s venom would kill him before the healers could stop it. He would never forget how pale he’d been by the time he landed—how faintly his magic flickered beneath his skin, draining away like water from a bath.

He had refused to leave Winter’s side as the healers worked, pacing outside the tent as they cast their spells and applied their potions, and rushing in as soon as the tent flap opened and the chief healer informed him that Winter had survived.

He was so weak, though, his wings wilted and desiccated like old petals, his breath coming raspy and quick. His left shoulder was packed and bandaged and his arm strapped to his chest to keep it still while it healed. (It would stay strapped for a month, to Winter’s endless complaining, but Star bore it all gladly, knowing he was alive.)

But in the end, he’d said nothing. Realized that having almost lost him once, he _really_ couldn’t bear to risk losing him again. Knew he’d never survive it.

So he’d kept his mouth shut.

And intended to, for the rest of his military career, loving him the only way he was allowed to—silently.

But his military career was over now.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said finally. His voice sounded far away, as though another were speaking for him, but he had never spoken more truthfully in his life. “And I didn’t want you to be reassigned.”

There was a long silence behind him, and then the faint fizz of magic that meant Winter had risen up on his wings. A moment later he lowered himself onto the grass and settled himself comfortably close at Star’s side.

They were used to close proximity, of course. Winter slept in his quarters in the fort and at his back in the field and always had to stay close enough to touch when they left their camp. But Star had long since trained himself to distinguish that kind of professional proximity from genuine affection.

It suddenly occurred to him that he might not have been quite so good at it as he thought.

“I would not have asked to be reassigned,” Winter said simply.

Star swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He felt wretched, suddenly, and hopeful all at once as understanding washed over him, tumbled him around, left him drifting, suddenly, with no idea where he was. He could feel Winter looking at him, but he couldn’t bear to turn his head to look back.

Couldn’t bear to see in that beautiful face a decade and a half of wasted years.

Star began to laugh then, a little tearfully, and shook his head. “Was it so obvious?”

“Not to anyone else, I think,” Winter said. “But you forget how well I know you.”

Star nodded, still looking out at the forest. “I thought I knew you well, too, but apparently not.”

Winter laughed softly. “No, you are just very good at talking yourself out of things that are good for you,” he said. “Such as personal safety, for example.”

Star snorted. “A prince who hides from danger will never command the respect of his armies,” he said.

“And a prince who is too stupid to know when to back off will not live long enough to command those armies in the first place,” Winter said.

It was an old argument, but it felt nice to have it again, one last time.

“Well, you will not have to worry about me for much longer,” Star said bitterly, nodding toward the Grandmother Oak. “I shall be well and truly trapped on that throne for the next century and a half.”

“I will always worry about you,” Winter said quietly. “No matter where you are.”

Star cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded thick. “When did your feelings change?” he asked.

“They never changed,” Winter said. “I have been doomed since the moment I set eyes on you.”

“I was as fragile as a dandelion puff then,” Star said, his brittle sadness softening a little.

“You were beautiful then,” Winter said. “As you are now.”

“I wasted so much time,” Star said softly.

“We both did,” Winter said.

“Bodyguards who take liberties with princes have not historically enjoyed long, happy lives afterward,” Star said. “You were smart not to take the risk. Though in this case I am sorry you didn’t.”

“So am I,” Winter said. Then he took Star’s hand in his and kissed it. “I would like to make it up to you tonight, if you would permit it.”

Star finally allowed himself to look at him then, to take in his softly curving lips and his gentle, expressive gray-blue eyes, darting back and forth as Winter did the same to him.

Star leaned in to kiss him then, a question that Winter answered gently at first, and then more insistently next. Star rose up onto his knees without breaking the kiss, cupping Winter’s face in his hands and stroking his hair as Winter clutched his shoulders and stroked the sensitive skin along the base of Star’s wings.

Winter nipped Star’s lower lip and sucked it, sending a fizz of pleasure through Star’s body that he had not felt in ages. He thrust his tongue into Winter’s mouth in response, tickling his palate and sliding it along the flat of Winter’s tongue before breaking off and kissing his way along the line of Winter’s jaw to his ear.

Winter sucked in a sharp breath as Star closed his teeth around his earlobe. Star worried it a little between his teeth, flicking his tongue against the skin and breathing cool air across it, enjoying the little shivers it sent through Winter’s body. He moved to the soft skin behind his ear, sucking and kissing and tonguing it as Winter curled his fingers into the muscles of Star’s back and moaned.

Winter responded by bestowing a line of soft, sucking kisses down the side of Star’s neck, eliciting a low, growling groan Star didn’t immediately recognize as coming from himself.

“Goddess,” he mumbled as Winter sank gentle teeth into the curve of his shoulder. 

They traded kisses for a little while longer, soft nips on lips and flickering flits of tongues, delicately coaxing each other toward greater desire. Star felt himself stirring almost immediately, the swirl of sadness and love inside him demanding touch, comfort, release, and a chance glance down at Winter’s body told him that he felt the same way.

By unspoken agreement they stood and walked, hands clasped, over to their evening camp, stopping at the blanket spread before the fire. They began to undress each other, removing the jeweled ornaments and garters strapped to each other’s arms and waists and thighs, kissing the skin beneath as they did. They removed each other’s briefs, next, skimming their hands over one another’s buttocks and thighs, gently cupping and stroking each other’s balls and cocks, enjoying the hot urgency pulsing through the veins beneath the skin.

Star pulled Winter close and kissed him hard, tonguing deep into his mouth as Winter’s hand closed around his cock. Before Star realized it, his wings had begun to beat and he began to rise, the tip of his cock dragging lightly up Winter’s belly while Winter dragged his lips and tongue down his neck and chest.

As Star rose further, Winter gently guided his thighs over his shoulders and wrapped his arms round his back. He looked up to meet Star’s eyes and smiled as he took Star’s cock into his mouth.

Star groaned and began to stroke Winter’s hair as he bobbed lightly with each wing beat, feeling his balls sway gently against Winter’s chin. “Oh, Goddess,” he murmured, carding through Winter’s hair and caressing the back of his head as Winter’s tongue and lips made a delicious ruin of his cock.

He gasped as Winter dug his fingers into the meat of his ass, allowing him to bury himself more deeply between Star’s thighs and take him all the way in up to the root. Then he gasped again as Winter drew a finger lightly down the sensitive skin of his cleft and applied teasing little strokes around the margin of his hole.

“You murder me,” Star choked. “Please.”

Winter hummed lightly on his cock as he slid his finger in, his magic bubbling forth, slippery and warm, to ease his way, and Star groaned as Winter gently pushed his fingertip against the golden core of his pleasure.

Winter’s wings began to unfurl and flex, gently moving back and forth as his own desire increased, treading the air just enough to support him as he devoted all of his attention to Star.

“Oh, yes,” Star groaned as Winter palmed his balls with his other hand, gently squeezing and stroking them in time with his tongue, his finger. He curled his fingers into Winter’s hair, insistent but not forceful, as his hips began to thrust against Winter’s face.

He began to whimper now, a prince undone and begging for release, pushing into Winter’s hot, sweet mouth, gasping and crying out as Winter’s fingers gently but expertly built up his pleasure stroke by stroke, until Star thought he could not bear it anymore, until Star was pleading for more pressure, for more friction, for—more. But Winter simply grinned around his cock and refused him, pushing his desire further upward, until Star’s feet began to kick and his breath became nothing but a staccato tattoo of rising cries, his wings beating so hard that he nearly pulled Winter off his feet.

It was Winter’s breathy laugh around his cock when that happened that drove Star over, releasing into his mouth with a long, breathy cry. His wings slowed, lowering him easily into Winter’s arms, who helped guide him down first to his feet and then down to the blanket below to take some rest.

Winter was smiling and his magic was glowing bright beneath his skin as he thumbed away a smear of Star’s honey-sweet essence from his lip. He tucked his wings and knelt before Star, handing him a cup of wine with a kiss to soothe his thirst. He was half-hard still, his cock softly flexing a little but in no great hurry. 

Star leaned his forehead against Winter’s, gently brushing their noses together.

“How can I ever reward you for such a gift?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

Winter laughed softly and his wings unfolded expectantly. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

They sat for a few minutes longer as Star drank his wine and caught his breath. Winter lounged comfortably on one elbow with his legs splayed apart, gently stroking his cock to pass the time, not hard enough to bring himself off, just to excite himself a little while he waited.

Star watched him as he sipped, his own spent cock still resting soft against his thigh, his own swirling magic—gold was the source of his power—beginning to fade a little. He could rise up again right now with little coaxing if he wanted to, but he was not in a selfish mood. It was Winter’s turn for his undivided attention. 

“Harder,” Star said, raising an eyebrow and taking another drink of wine.

Winter’s eyes brightened and a smile broke across his face. “All right.”

He paused to rub his fingers and thumb together in a practiced gesture, summoning his magic forth to slick his skin, and then closed his hand around his cock again and began to stroke a little harder. Star could see the sparkle of his magic begin to swirl beneath his skin as his desire rose, and smiled as Winter bit down on his lower lip and lifted his eyes to meet Star’s.

“Yes, just so,” Star said, taking a long, slow, appreciative look. He set his wine aside and took Winter’s foot into his lap and pressed his thumbs against the sole, massaging it with deep, sure strokes to match the cadence of Winter’s hand. 

Winter jolted a little as Star found the tiny spot in the arch of his foot that sent bolts of delight straight to his spine. “Goddess,” he breathed, curling his toes, and Star smiled and stroked Winter’s leg.

“I could watch you do this all night,” Star murmured. “You’re so beautiful when you touch yourself.”

“I have fine inspiration,” Winter replied, his voice hoarse and low and distracted. He kept his eyes locked on Star’s as he stroked himself, his breath quickening his breast as his magic swirled across his skin.

But then a brief burst of sadness flared across his face and his hand fell still.

“What is it?” Star asked anxiously.

“Nothing,” Winter said.

“This doesn’t work unless we’re absolutely honest with one another, remember?”

Winter kicked him lightly.

Star caught his foot and kissed it. “Please.”

Winter shrugged and gave Star a sad smile. “I have had only the touch my own hand for so long,” he said. “Tonight, all I crave is you.”

Star pushed away the grief that threatened to scoop out his chest, and smiled. “In that case, you shall have me.”

He set Winter’s foot aside, and leaned over on his hands to lightly brush his lips and beard across his ankles and then his calves, gently spreading his legs as he went. He nibbled the inside of Winter’s left knee and was rewarded with a soft exhale of pleasure, and then began to plant soft, sucking kisses to the insides of his thighs, flicking his tongue lightly against his skin and blowing cool air across the damp spots he left behind. Winter’s magic bloomed beneath the kisses in soft turquoise bursts, the green of the malachite softened by the silver of his blood, growing bigger and bigger the higher Star’s mouth rose.

Winter had continued to stroke himself while Star kissed him, but he stopped now that he was so close.

“Keep going,” Star murmured, pushing his legs apart further and turning his head so he could take Winter’s balls into his mouth one by one, and then gently nose them up so he could flutter his tongue teasingly along the tender skin behind them.

Winter sucked in a sharp breath and Star firmed up his tongue to push against the spot a little harder. Beside him, Winter’s legs jerked as his hips bucked and he lost his grip on himself with a breathy little laugh.

“Goddess, just a few inches more, please,” he gasped, and Star withdrew and with one smooth motion turned Winter over and drew his hips up toward him. Winter groaned with delight and his wings unfurled, shivering with anticipation as he buried his face into his forearms and presented himself to Star.

“You are magnificent,” Star murmured, gently opening him up with his thumbs and nosing his way in, gently brushing his beard against the tender skin lining Winter’s innermost part.

Winter gasped again, and as he did, Star flicked out his tongue and drew it up his crease to his hole, sweet with honeyed love magic and rich with the thick, salt-smoky scent of Winter’s body. He fluttered his tongue teasingly around Winter’s entrance, feeling his muscles pulse and grip around his tongue as though to draw him in further.

Star denied him for a while, delivering delicious torment instead as Winter whined with happy frustration. His wings began to beat with pleasure, brushing lightly against the top of Star’s head, and his cock began to drip with an excited mix of magic and essence, straining forward in search of contact.

Winter cried out as Star shifted and circled his hand around his cock as he stiffened his tongue and thrust it inside. Star fucked Winter with his tongue and stroked him off as Winter’s voice ran away from him in a string of affirmations and pleas and demands for more.

“I love you,” he gasped as his hips began to stutter uncontrollably. “Oh, Goddess, I love—”

He burst forth in thick hot jets, striping the blanket and smearing Star’s hand, his wings collapsing like silk over his back.

“I love you, too,” Star said gently, kissing Winter’s quivering thighs as he withdrew.

He magicked a few sips of wine to wash out his mouth and then curled up to face him, gently brushing the hair away from his face.

“Look at you,” he said, tracing Winter’s eyebrow, the line of his cheek, the curve of his jaw. “You will always be the most precious thing in the world to me.”

Winter smiled, and then as Star’s thumb brushed across the edge of his lip, he quickly opened his mouth and caught it with his teeth.

“Why, do you require more refreshment already?” Star asked, with a look of mock inquisitiveness.

Winter smiled and then tickled the tip of Star’s thumb with his tongue, expertly brushing it across the sensitive millimeter of flesh that lay just behind the curve of the nail before sliding back and crawling on hands and knees to push Star onto his back—he managed to tuck his wings just in time—and straddle his thighs.

“I will never have my fill of you,” Winter said with a soft smile, then gazed down at Star’s cock, beginning to stiffen in anticipation. “Nor you of me, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Star gave a low, rumbling laugh. He was indeed ready, and then some. “You would have to chain me to stop me touching you right now.” 

“Would you like that?” Winter asked, his smile broadening wickedly. “Do you trust me?”

Star sighed and felt his breath flutter in his chest as he stretched out his arms. “With my life,” he said.

Winter laughed softly as he flicked his fingers. Star felt the magical bindings seal his wrists and ankles to the earth below and felt hot anticipation bloom within his belly. This was a training spell, used to practice escape techniques, though it had more enjoyable uses as well. Star could easily break it if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

“This is treason,” Star teased, but Winter only laughed.

“You have no titles with me, remember?”

“I rescind that decree.”

“So break the binds if you wish. You are in total control,” Winter said lightly, leaning down to raise Star’s cock with his tongue.

Star felt his wings shivering against his back, trapped deliciously between his body and the earth, aching to move. But he did not break his binds.

“I want to touch you,” he breathed. “This is cruelty.”

“I know,” Winter said, lifting away from his cock. The cool evening air shocked him and he made an impatient noise, pushing his hips up toward Winter’s body as much as his bindings would allow.

It wasn’t much.

“For Goddess’ sake, keep going,” he rasped.

“If you keep talking, I’ll bind your mouth, too,” Winter said, leaning over to kiss his hip bone.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Without even looking at him, Winter flicked his fingers again and Star found his mouth filled with magic. It was squishy enough to chew and suck on, but solid enough to trap his tongue and spread his jaw and garble his speech so badly he could not issue further demands. He knew this trick, too—as with the bindings on his limbs, there was a bit of magic he could do to dissolve the gag if he needed to—but he wasn’t interested in speaking right now.

Instead, he groaned in mock protest and Winter simply laughed.

“I think you love this,” he retorted, dragging his lips across Star’s belly—carefully angled so he did not touch Star’s cock—toward his navel. Star gasped as a jolt of pleasure shot through him, spreading up and down his spine and through his limbs like ice cracking across a frozen lake. 

Star struggled against his binds and bit down hard on the gag, trying to push himself closer to Winter’s body. He was suddenly starved for contact, and obtaining it suddenly became his dearest wish.

He shuddered as Winter kissed and sucked his way up Star’s belly without touching any other part of him—he was dimly aware of Winter’s wings beating, holding him high, while his own wings struggled to free themselves from behind his back.

He shuddered again as Winter’s kisses began to drift to the left, a slow march toward Star’s nipple. The one above the heart, no less, so he knew Winter was about to drive him mad with want.

Star found himself making a shaky groan as Winter’s lips closed around his nipple. He caught it lightly between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue, sending cascades of pleasure through him. He moaned again and again, pushing against his binds in search of touch, nearly spilling himself from relief when Winter’s cock brushed against his own.

But it was not quite enough. Winter moved to the other nipple and this time he nearly wept from disappointment, because it was lovely—Goddess, it was lovely—but it was not the left, and now that he’d had a taste of the left, he was bereft.

“ _Unghh_ ,” he begged— _more_ —and Winter laughed again.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he murmured, kissing his way up his throat. “Did you have something to say?”

Star groaned with happy frustration, then inhaled sharply as Winter sucked on a tender spot behind his ear. When he closed his teeth around his earlobe next, and sucked, he nearly shrieked with pleasure. Winter had lowered himself a little—his cock was now freely brushing across his hips and thighs, and when Star lifted his hips, his own cock could brush against Winter’s body in return.

But not _enough_.

He was whimpering now, pushing and pushing and trying to reach him, chewing and sucking on the gag—frantic to provide more sensation to his starving skin.

Winter began kissing his way along Star’s jaw to his bottom lip, lightly tracing it with his tongue as Star cried and begged incoherently for more, bucking and struggling as hard as he could against his binds, when Winter flicked his fingers and the gag vanished.

Star surged forward to kiss him, thrusting his tongue into Winter’s mouth, fucking it desperately, as though kissing alone could somehow assuage his thirst for touch.

“Please let me touch you,” he begged, panting and kissing and grabbing at Winter’s lips with his teeth as Winter simply laughed. “Please, I need to touch you. I’ll die—”

“You won’t die,” Winter chided, but he dropped his hips anyway, pressing his erect cock against Star’s hip and rubbing it against his body. Star began to pump against him as Winter kissed him—and cried out because it was _still_ not enough touch.

“Please let me go,” he begged. “Please—I need to touch—”

“Then break the binds and touch me,” Winter said.

Again, he chose not to.

And then Winter pushed himself up onto his knees and slowly lowered himself onto Star’s cock. Their magic mingled to ease his way, but there was still enough pressure, enough drag, to send shocks of pleasure through Star’s body.

Star cried out for release, but Winter continued to deny him. He bit his lip and smiled wickedly as he settled in, rocking his hips a little and stretching his wings teasingly—while Star’s own quivered helplessly behind him. Then Winter began to touch himself, long slow strokes meant to prolong rather than hasten pleasure, and Star felt his own magic roiling beneath his skin, pulling him almost painfully toward Winter and the promise of touch.

“Please,” he whispered, a tear running down his cheek, and finally, finally, Winter flicked his fingers to release him.

Star surged forward, wings unfurling as he sat up, wrapping his arms around Winter’s back and kissing him so hard he knew he’d leave Winter bruised. He was blind with lust now, crazed with the need to touch every part of Winter’s body that he could reach, to crush him to his chest and oh Goddess, to _fuck_ him until the sun rose. 

His wings began to beat, and he shifted his grip to hold Winter’s ass. “Hold on,” he murmured, and Winter nodded and wrapped his arms around Star’s neck and his legs around Star’s waist, and began to beat his own wings, too.

They began to rise, and as Star’s feet left the ground, they lost some of their leverage, but their wings and magic made up for it, cradling them and supporting them on the breeze as they rose higher and higher above the trees.

The sun had fully set by now, and the sky was awash with stars. The moon hung low and full, quietly illuminating the Great Apple Forest below. The fireflies had begun to rise, too, a scatter of incandescence across the landscape beneath them, as though they were making love between two skies. 

Their hips rolled together in a fluid ripple of movement, wave meeting shore without cease as their magic pulled them together ever closer. They kissed each other deeply, with tongue and teeth, and stroked each other’s skin, and Star felt Winter’s cock sliding wetly across his belly, hard and needy and so, so close. They kissed until they forgot how to kiss, until all they knew was the touch of each other’s skin and the sound of each other’s breath, gasping and moaning and crying out for one another as their desire crashed over them like a storm cracking open the sky on a hot afternoon.

Star felt himself release inside Winter’s body as Winter released against his, spreading slick sweet warmth across them both as they slowly returned to Earth.

They gently parted their bodies as they landed, but they were not ready to stop touching each other yet. They furled their wings as they kissed and leaned against each other, breathless and sated and lazy with sex as their magic faded back into their bodies.

“That was incredible,” Star mumbled as they curled up on the blanket together.

“I am glad that was just as lovely as I’d hoped it would be,” Winter said, tucking himself in against Star’s side.

“You haven’t really been celibate for the past 15 years, have you?”

Winter laughed softly. “No more than you, Highness.”

“It feels like I was, now that I know what this feels like,” Star said. “You’ve ruined me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I believe I’m quite ruined, too.”

Star laughed and hugged him close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “What rotten, stupid luck we have.”

“We really do.”

“I don’t suppose you want to stay with me in the palace, do you.” He knew Winter would not—he was a man of action, most at home in the field with a blade in his hand. It was strange that a man so good at killing—so gorgeously, gracefully good at it—could be so kind and tender too. But kind and tender was not ammunition enough to survive the assaultive boredom of royal life. Star would be wrapped up with affairs of state from dawn until midnight every day, while Winter stewed in boredom with nothing to do.

“I would love to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said after a too-long moment. “But I don’t think I can justify leaving our brothers and sisters on the Old Stone Wall down two men instead of one while there’s a war on. I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself.”

“I know,” Star said, stroking his hair. “I’m not sure how much palace life will agree with me, either, but I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”

“No,” Winter said. “I will join you when the war is over.”

“I shall aim to win it as quickly as I can,” Star said, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“I will have leave at Midsummer. Perhaps we can see each other then,” Winter said. “That is not so long.”

Star laughed softly. “I do not even know how to sleep anymore without listening to you breathe,” he said. “It will feel like a lifetime.”

“I will probably spend months waking in the middle of the night in a panic, wondering where you’ve run off to, before I get used to your absence.”

“It is all right if you do, you know,” Star said carefully. “Get used to my absence, I mean. Or if you don’t want to spend your Midsummer leave with me. I don’t want you to feel obligated—I mean, I don’t expect anything from you. Your life is your own. It always has been. I will not stand in your way if you—want to seek out a more suitable partner.” 

“Goddess, you are such a fool,” Winter said, anger sharpening his voice. “I doubt there is anyone I could ever love more than you, and there never will be. And I believe you feel the same way.”

“You deserve to be with someone who can live with you like other soldiers’ partners,” Star protested, but there was no conviction in it. “Not someone you might see once a year on leave, if you’re lucky.”

“Don’t tell me what I want.”

“I know very well what kind of life you want, and I cannot give it to you.”

“Stop, please,” Winter said, his voice breaking slightly. “Let’s not argue tonight.”

Star nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Winter kissed him softly and reached for his clothes. “I’ll start supper.”

Star dressed, too, and laid out dishes and uncorked a good bottle of mead that he’d been saving for a special occasion, pouring Winter a cup to sip on while he put together their meal.

“I could help,” Star offered lamely.

Winter snorted. “I think we’d both rather starve,” he said, then looked up from the bread he was warming on the coals and nodded at the bubbling pot. “You can stir that.”

Star swatted his behind lightly and then did as Winter bade.

“Maybe I could build us a secret little retreat somewhere,” Star mused wistfully. “On the Prospect Heights, overlooking the sea, so heavily warded that no one would ever know we were there. We’d have a little cottage filled with books, and a garden, and some goats, and beehives, and a well of sweet water, and a hot spring to bathe in every day.”

Winter gave him a soft smile. “That sounds heavenly,” he said.

They ate quietly, without much reminiscing, as though this were not their last meal together, as though this could be any other supper in the field, as though they would still have hundreds more. They talked a little bit about the coronation, as though it were just another one of the Prince’s tiresome duties that interrupted his service, and a little bit about the Howlies’ next mission—an attack on a Hydra fort about 30 miles across the border, believed to contain a cache of the lethal iron ore that made their weapons so deadly. It was a dangerous mission—which was why it was their mission.

“If you think this will make it any easier to let you out of my sight tomorrow, you’re badly mistaken,” Star said a little sadly.

“It was never going to be easy,” Winter said. “I’m glad we had tonight. I think I would always regret not saying anything.”

“Me too,” Star said. “If you only knew how many times I almost—”

“Hush,” Winter said. “We do not have time for regrets tonight.”

Star yawned a little, then, and Winter laughed softly. “Time for bed.”

“No,” Star said, looking up at the sky. “I want this night to last forever.”

Winter stood up and tugged on his hand. “Then at least lie down with me,” he said.

Star assented and let Winter lead him back toward the tent.

Inside, the bed was already laid out on the rug, large and soft and piled high with pillows and blankets, and they curled up together in the dark, Star’s arm wrapped around Winter’s waist and holding him tight. He could feel Winter’s heart beating through his folded wings and allowed himself to feel the quiet grief that had been building inside him all day. 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he said.

Winter reached up to clasp Star’s hand in his. “Me too,” he said, and Star knew then that this would cost him deeply, too, for he did not try to soften it. “I shall count the days to Midsummer.”

“You will be careful out there. I command you to stay alive.”

Winter hummed and leaned into him. “Yes, your highness.”

Star buried his nose into Winter’s hair, breathing its scent in deep to sooth the yawning, gaping ache in his chest. This conversation was unbearable—it was all unbearable. He squeezed Winter tight and felt tears swell in his eyes, and he didn’t bother to try to blink them back.

He hadn’t made a sound—or didn’t think he had—but Winter rolled over to face him, and thumbed the tears from his cheek.

“You’re going to make me start, too,” he chided. His voice was thick with an unexpressed sob.

“I wish we had more time.”

“We have tonight,” Winter said quietly, then kissed the salt from his cheek. “Let us have tonight.”

Winter fell asleep first, clasping Star’s hand. Star watched him for a while with sleep-heavy eyes, watched his face soften and his mouth fall open a little, the way it always did. His purple scars glowed a little, five thick, jagged stripes, their magic sealed away from the rest of his body thanks to the quick work of the healers. It was why he wore the pauldron now—a cut in the right place, with a blade of iron, could release the poisonous magic back into his body and finish the Hydrae’s work for good. Winter would carry that piece of death with him for the rest of his life.

Star pushed that thought away. He had dealt with that terror years ago, and though it sometimes still came back—usually whenever his worries needed something to latch onto—he knew it was pointless. The healers had done excellent work: The risk was very small, and with the armor it was negligible. Now its greatest harm, aside from the occasional ache in cold weather, was to drive Star mad for no reason when his mood was dark.

But tonight it also gave him an idea: He would make an alliance with the Iron Mountain Dwarves. If Fae bought and destroyed their ore, the Hydrae would no longer have anything to make their weapons with. That was how he would win the war.

The Dwarves were stubborn and proud and it would take no small amount of finesse to convince them to sell the metal they worked so hard to mine to a buyer determined to destroy it, but he would find a way. He had to. 

He awoke to Winter kissing his nose. “Good morning,” he murmured, his voice rasping with sleep.

“Hmm,” Star replied, kissing him on the mouth. His cock was already stirring. “Good morning to you, too.”

It was their last morning together, but he blearily shoved that thought away. He pushed his cock into Winter’s thigh and kissed him again, then turned him onto his back and began to slowly kiss his way down Winter’s body.

“Breakfast?” Winter said with a sly half-smile, wriggling his hips a little. He was already hard, too.

Star hummed and sucked a spot on Winter’s neck that made him jump.

“Yes, that—” Winter gasped. “That’s nice.”

Star paid a little more attention to the spot before moving on to other sensitive spots—kissing and sucking and licking and nibbling, marking every part of Winter’s body that he could get to with his mouth.

Winter writhed a little beneath him, moaning softly and sleepily petting Star’s hair and shoulders as he made his way down.

Star took Winter’s cock into his mouth and let it fill him up. He took his time, sucking with a long, slow cadence as he gently fondled Winter’s balls with one hand and pinched his left nipple with his other.

“Oh, Goddess,” Winter breathed. He drew his hands up and down the base of Star’s wings, sending bursts of soft, warming sensation spreading across his back and down his spine.

Star lifted his mouth away, leaving Winter softly thrusting helplessly into the air as Star turned him onto his side and summoned forth a bit of magic so he could push his cock inside.

Winter groaned happily as Star settled into place, turning back to kiss him. Star could feel Winter’s wings quivering between them, tickling his chest and belly as Star thrust himself into Winter’s with soft, insistent pushes.

“Touch me,” Winter breathed, shifting his leg to open his hips, and Star reached down to circle his fingers around his cock.

They made love slowly, trading long soft kisses and quiet breathy sighs, reveling in each other’s taste and scent and the small noises they made when sensation washed through them, making the morning last as long as they could.

Their pleasure accreted inch by inch, until the air was thick with it and their bodies singing with it, their magic swirling thickly and urgently beneath their skin, sending shivering cascades up and down their skin until they could bear it no longer.

“Oh, Goddess,” Star gasped as his desire began to outrun him. Winter was close, too—they could no longer kiss, only stare at each other with open mouths and wide eyes, their brows furrowed intensely as they bore each other through the explosion of pleasure that burst through them both.

Winter cried out and the sound of his voice brought Star with him, and they spilled into one another as their limbs and wings spasmed with release.

They parted reluctantly and Winter turned over to face him. “That will be the best part of my day,” he said, dipping his head forward to kiss Star’s mouth.

“Mine, too,” Star said. “I want you to say goodbye to me here.”

“I should at least accompany you to the Grandmother Oak.”

“No,” Star said. “I don’t think I can take my leave of you without kissing you. I think I can fly three miles alone without getting myself killed.”

Winter snorted. “Have you met yourself, my dear?”

Star laughed. “You can see all the way to the Grandmother Oak from here. I’ve no doubt that you’ll be by my side in an instant if I get into trouble.”

“For now,” Winter said, but there was no bitterness in his voice—just melancholy.

“We can endure until Midsummer,” Star said. “It’s not so long. Nine months, maybe a bit more?”

Winter nodded. “If the front is quiet enough, yes. And if my mother lets me out of her sight when I come back.”

“I will think of some errand for you.”

“Make it a long one,” Winter said lightly, but that came out sounding melancholy, too. He sat up and began to comb his hair.

“Let me,” Star said, holding out his hand. “I’ve always wanted to.”

Winter smiled softly and handed him the comb as he turned around.

Star gathered his hair into his hands and began to gently work out the tangles. He loved tending to Winter like this, had dreamed of combing his hair and bathing him and dressing him, of serving him the way Winter had served him all these years. It felt—holy to him in a way, to love him like this.

He did not have many memories of his father, the King, but he remembered how much he had enjoyed making his mother tea at the end of every day—a small ritual that had reminded him that in their family they were equals in all things. After he died, and his mother assumed the crown, she had made her own tea every night to remind herself of him.

When he was done, and Winter’s hair lay in thick, glossy waves down his back, Star twisted it up the way Winter liked to wear it and secured it with a thin leather braided thong. Winter smiled and reached up to touch it. “Not bad,” he said, adjusting it slightly.

“I’ve only watched you do it every day for the past 15 years,” Star said.

“Have you, now?” Winter said coyly over his shoulder as he reached for his clothes. “What else have you watched me do?”

“Why do you think I like watching you touch yourself so much?” Star said wryly. “Though for the record—that was an accident. But I’ve never gotten it out of my head.”

Winter laughed. “How do you know it was an accident?” he asked, turning around. He pressed a soft kiss to Star’s mouth.

Star gave a laugh that sounded more like a low growl and kissed him again. But Winter broke off before it could deepen, pressed his forehead to Star’s for a long moment, then kissed him lightly as he pulled away and reached for his clothing.

“We must go soon,” he said softly.

“I know,” Star said.

They dressed quietly, helping each other fasten their ornaments to their arms and legs and ears. Star buckled Winter’s sword around his waist and touched his chest. “I don’t know how I am supposed to leave you,” he said softly.

Winter did not meet his gaze. Instead, he reached down and carefully unclipped the malachite pendant he wore on his garter, tumbled it through his fingers to infuse it with a bit of magic, and tucked it into Star’s hand. Star could feel it pulsing with Winter’s heartbeat gently in his palm, warm and alive.

“This will always tell you how I am,” Winter said, closing Star’s fingers around it. “You only need touch it to know that I am well.”

Star closed his eyes and kissed it, too filled with emotion to speak right away.

Once he was able to compose himself, Star lifted the ruby crystal necklace he always wore, infused it with the same spell, and placed it around Winter’s neck.

Winter held his gaze as he pressed the crystal to his chest. “Come Midsummer,” he said. “I will meet you here.”

Winter kissed him one last time, took Star’s hand, and nodded toward the entrance of the tent. “Come, my King, let us greet the day.”

* * *

**_Seven Years Later_ **

The war was over.

It felt like a miracle, though he knew it was not. Too many Fae had died, too many more had returned home with wounds that would change their lives forever. But there was peace, finally, and the border was secure, and the Hydrae so badly diminished they had slipped back into the sea for what the seers predicted would be generations, if not more.

Faerie was safe.

He found himself pacing the halls of the palace built into the Grandmother Oak with a strange, empty, fluttering feeling. Now, instead of forestalling annihilation, his life would revolve around more ordinary concerns—improving the irrigation systems that fed the fields in the southern plains and building a new bridge across the Newtown Creek and establishing more market centers to make trade more convenient for outlying villages.

And revolve around Winter.

He did one final turn about the cottage to ensure all was in order—the fire was crackling, the table laden with food and drink, a hot bath in the large stone tub steaming by the hearth, the large bed laid with soft blankets and fresh linens.

The Prospect Heights retreat had been finished this summer, but Winter had not been here yet. It had been nearly two years since they’d seen each other last—the brutal final push toward the sea had forced him to cancel his annual leave, and Star had been too busy sealing additional alliances with the humans and the elves to meet him at the fort. Star ached to touch him again.

He pressed his fingertips to the malachite pendant as he had dozens of times every day for the past seven years. It was more precious to him than any letter, though they’d managed to exchange a few of those as well, for it had become such a part of him that it might as well have been his own heart beating within it.

A brief flash of blue alerted him that the outer wards had been breached by his royal guard, and he went outside. He could feel Winter’s heart beating more quickly in anticipation, and he was certain Winter could feel the same of his.

It was just a few weeks after Imbolc—there was still snow thick on the ground—but he didn’t mind standing outside to wait. He loved to watch Winter fly—he was as graceful in the air as he was on foot—and when the three flying shapes came into view, he found himself whooping with delight and waving his arms. The royal escort broke off, and Winter treated Star to a few loops and dives, just to make him smile.

Star laughed and held out his arms and Winter landed easily into his embrace. He looked tired but happy, and he held Star tight for a long minute before kissing him.

“You look like hell,” Winter said touching the side of his face. “I’m not sure which one of us has had the harder time of it.”

“Just too many late nights,” Star said. He touched a healing cut on Winter’s cheek. “Nothing fatal.”

He stepped back to scan the rest of Winter’s body. He was still dirty, and too thin, but otherwise looked all right. “You’re well, otherwise?”

“I could sleep for a month,” Winter said, leaning in to kiss him again. “But I’ve never felt better in my life.”

Star kissed him one more time and guided him inside, shutting the doors behind him.

Inside, his quarters were bright and warm. There was food laid out on the table, and wine and mead, and a hot bath steamed in a large copper tub near the hearth.

Star led him to the bath and helped him undress, kissing every new bruise and scar he found as he did.

“I am fine, my love,” Winter said, laughing softly and stroking his hair as Star pressed his lips to a thick deep scar on his thigh. That one had been caused by one the Hydrae’s last iron arrows. “Truly. Just tired and sore and ready to wash a year’s worth of dirt out of my hair.” 

“Your wish is my command,” Star said with a soft smile.

Winter hissed a little as he sank into the hot water, settling in until it came up to his chin. Star brought him a cup of mead and drew up a stool to sit alongside him.

“So when does the madness begin?” Winter asked. His eyes were closed, but his hands were idly swishing through the water beneath the surface.

“Not right away,” Star said. “I’ve told my staff that we’re not to be disturbed for the next fortnight. But I could not put off the seamstresses any longer than that, I’m afraid.”

“The King must look good at his own wedding,” Winter murmured.

“So must his Prince Consort.”

Winter laughed softly, his eyes still closed. “Me, a prince,” he said. “It’s absurd.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Star splashed him lightly. “Stop that nonsense.”

Winter hummed and smiled. Eyes still closed, he said, “Wash my hair?”

“Gladly,” Star said, reaching for a small brass pitcher sitting on the hearth.

He used it to pour water over Winter’s hair and then lathered it with rich, lavender-scented soap, being sure to massage Winter’s scalp and temples until his jaw unhitched and he let out a faint sigh.

He washed Winter’s hair and then took the sponge and washed his body, too, magicking away the dirt and sweat that clouded the water so it would always be fresh and clean. Winter didn’t complain, just let Star gently move him this way and that so he could reach every part, gazing at him with a soft half-smile that seemed to say many things at once: _Thank you, I needed this, I love you_. His cock stirred a little when Star touched it, and then his stomach growled, and they both laughed.

Star helped him stand and dried him off with soft magic before enveloping him in a thick robe. They ate a quiet supper at the kitchen table and split a bottle of mead as they curled up on the deep, soft divan near the fire beneath a blanket. They talked about ordinary things that still seemed extraordinary to Star—the wedding, his upcoming state visit to the elves of the Forest Hill, Winter’s new appointment as a professor of knife fighting at the War Collegium come fall, what kind of gift they wanted to give the new baby Winter’s sister would have this summer.

It amazed him, too, how easy they still were with one another. For seven years, they had only seen each other in stolen moments months or years apart, sustained only by letters and the crystals beating with each other’s hearts. And yet here they were as though none of that time had meant anything at all—as if they were still together in their camp atop Cobble Hill, and it had just been a dream, dwindling away more and more the longer they were awake.

Star’s arm was around Winter’s shoulder and he leaned heavily into Star’s chest, resting his head in the curve of Star’s neck. He dozed a little as Star spoke about his plans to endow a children’s home for war orphans, but Star didn’t mind. It just felt so good to have him back forever, to know that now they had time.

Star stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head and watched the fire crackle in the hearth until he felt Winter stir.

“I fell asleep,” he said hoarsely, punctuating it with a small amused huff.

“You’re tired,” Star said, kissing the top of his head. “Let me put you to bed.”

Winter hummed and turned up his face to drop a little kiss on the side of Star’s neck. “But I’m awake now.”

They traded kisses as Star helped him push the robe away, freeing his wings. He did not extend them fully, but they flexed softly as Star ran his fingers along the skin at their base, and he began to kiss Star a little more deeply. Star broke off just long enough to shed his own clothing before returning to the divan.

They took their time reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies, skimming their hands across each other’s skin, thumbing and pinching each other’s nipples, tracing their fingertips along planes of muscle and lines of bone, each feeling the other’s heart beat faster through the crystals hung around their necks. Their wings fluttered and flexed as they both rose up on their knees to face one another, stroking each other’s cocks as they kissed.

He gently maneuvered Winter to sit back on the divan while he kneeled on the rug in front of him, gently pushing his knees apart and taking his cock into his mouth.

“Oh, Goddess,” Winter breathed, playing lightly with Star’s hair. “How I have missed this.”

Star hummed an agreement and Winter curled his fingers into Star’s hair a little harder. He didn’t mind. He felt himself grow fully hard as he worked his tongue and lips around Winter’s shaft, and he began to stroke himself as he sucked.

“You like doing that,” Winter murmured in a low, growling voice. His breath was high and light and his hips were rocking in time with Star’s cadence. He carded his fingers through Star’s hair and showered him with praise, telling him how beautiful he was, how much he loved the way his mouth felt around his cock.

But Star stopped before either of them could come, and laughed a little at the little whine of protest Winter made as he drew away. The carpet was soft and thick and warm from the fire, and he had an idea.

“Come down here with me,” Star said softly, taking a pillow from the divan and setting it beside him on the rug.

Winter grinned and raised his eyebrows as he climbed down and let Star lay him back on the pillow with parted knees and position himself between Winter’s thighs.

Star summoned his magic and guided himself between the cleft of Winter’s ass, exhaling a low shuddering breath as Winter swallowed him up. He was tight and hot, and he could feel their magic mingling with a fizzing buzz that sent bolts of pleasure through Star’s belly and back.

Winter hummed with pleasure and wrapped his legs around Star’s waist as he leaned forward on his forearms to suck on Winter’s nipple as he began to thrust.

Winter’s still-damp hair curled softly around his face and throat, and his magic glittered strong and bright beneath his skin. He watched Star with a soft, tender look and bit down on his lower lip as he stroked and petted Star’s hair with one hand and tucked the other up behind his head to give Star better access to his chest.

Star’s wings began to unfurl, and they swished gently in the air as he rocked back and forth across Winter’s body. Winter’s cock was pushing hard against Star’s belly, and Star felt him grow slick with magic as his desire mounted.

“Oh, my love, I missed you so much,” Winter breathed.

A fine sweat broke out across Star’s skin and his magic was tingling, pulling him closer and closer to Winter as Winter clutched him tight. He fucked Winter harder now, kissing him and stroking his skin as Winter began to lose control of his voice and filled the room with breathy little cries.

Star, too, began to cry out—Winter was so hot and tight around him, it felt incredible to be inside him again after so long—and as they drew close to their climax their eyes met, and there they stayed, watching each other fall apart as their desire rose and rose and rose.

“I love you,” Star breathed, and Winter gasped and cried out and began to thrash with pleasure, his hips bucking wildly and his fingers digging hard into the muscles of Star’s back.

Winter’s pleasure unleashed Star’s own, and they collapsed together in a tangle of kisses and cries.

Star tucked his wings and rolled to Winter’s side, resting his head on his shoulder and resting his arm on Winter’s chest as the echoes of their climax shivered through them.

Winter turned his head to face him. The exhaustion was plain in his face now, but his eyes were shining and he was smiling softly. He pressed a soft kiss to Star’s lips. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For waiting for me,” Winter said. He lifted his hand and gestured at the cottage. “For building this for us.”

Star kissed him back and pressed the flat of his palm against Winter’s heart. “You speak as though I had any choice in the matter,” he said, laughing softly, then kissed him again. “Welcome home.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and please don't forget to squeal about CapDeady's art in the comments!
> 
> ALSO: If the art didn't load for you on mobile, you can see it here! [Steve](https://twitter.com/CapDeady/status/1361695177434423303) and [Bucky](https://twitter.com/CapDeady/status/1338993318605299712)
> 
> (I'm trying to troubleshoot this.)
> 
> Want to stay in touch? Find us here:  
> —Twitter: [CapDeady](https://twitter.com/CapDeady), [Bea](https://twitter.com/PendragonBea)  
> —Tumblr: [CapDeady](https://capdeady.tumblr.com/), [Bea](https://beaarthurpendragon.tumblr.com/)


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